


My love is pure

by cervolina



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #StandByMe, Asexual Character, Asexual Will, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Florence - Freeform, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder Husbands vacation, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Season/Series 03, Touching, and some fluff, but looots of emotional stuff, discussing sexuality, yes there is no smut here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7975720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cervolina/pseuds/cervolina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During their vacation in Florence Hannibal begins to touch Will more often and Will realises there is something he needs to tell Hannibal about himself.<br/>It leads to a profound discussion about Will's sexuality, their romantic relationship and what it really means to be loved.</p>
<p>My very late contribution to the Love is Love event by Hannigram Acethetic to celebrate love on the Ace-Spectrum. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm actually too late for this event, but the topic is important to me and I really wanted to write this, so here it is! Yes, the title is taken from a line of the song "You're beautiful" by James Blunt (I know it's a bit cheesy, but it fits) ;)  
> All my inspiration for the scenes and places mentioned in the fic came from my own trip to Florence this summer (which is truly a stunning city!) and being there I loved to imagine our Murder Husbands walking those streets together, finally united. 
> 
> This was beta-ed by the wonderful [MissDisoriental](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDisoriental), who has been such a great help in every way! Thank you a thousand times! You are simply amazing! <3

Hannibal had promised Will a trip to Florence. He had raised the topic the first time they discussed hideaway locations for the future. Admittedly, it wasn’t a safe place to stay for long, at least not at the moment. Hannibal’s footprints were still figuratively imprinted in the streets and the Carabinieri had their eyes and ears everywhere. Owing to a lack of evidence, neither of them had officially been declared dead by the FBI yet, so it was to be feared that they were still on the radar of international law enforcement. Nevertheless, Will had agreed to stop for a few days during their journey through central Europe; the end of which wasn’t yet determined.

They arrived in the last breath of summer, when it was still relatively hot in Tuscany.  In spite of the forthcoming autumn the city was still overflowing with tourists and it hadn’t been easy to find moderately priced accommodation in the city center. Not that they were running out of money, but they hadn’t yet managed to gain full access to all of Hannibal’s bank accounts, so they were forced to keep a moderating eye on their expenses.

The hotel where they stayed was situated near the beautiful Piazza Santa Maria Novella and from the balcony of their suite, directly beneath the roof of the house, they had a stunning view of the historic center. Hannibal had booked them a room with a double bed. They hadn’t discussed this earlier and, of course, Will would have given his approval had he been asked. Nevertheless, the fact that Hannibal was assuming that at this point in their relationship the sleeping arrangements were self-evident made Will feel slightly uneasy.

Will liked to be close to Hannibal, but Hannibal liked to be closer and Will wasn’t entirely sure how much he liked that. It was complicated.

“Would you like to freshen up a bit before we take a look at the city? It’s been a long flight,” Hannibal asked, beginning to unpack his suitcase on their shared bed.

Will nodded; in fact he would have preferred to sleep instead, but running a hand through his tousled and oily hair made him realized that a shower might be in order.

“You can use the bathroom first,” Hannibal offered “I’ll take my turn after you.”

The refreshment of cold water was badly needed after their 9 h flight from the States. It eased Will’s thoughts and made him realize that he hadn’t breathed so freely for months. Finally they were gone; finally far away from where they’d escaped the force of judgment that was probably still pursuing them. Even though Will had dark memories of Florence, too, he wasn’t afraid to revisit the places where their ways had crossed and parted again all those years ago. These wounds were too old to reopen; and summer too warm for the darkness to be truly frightening.

Other things were less easy. Like Hannibal’s touches when they’d left the plane and set foot on Italian ground for the first time: a hand on the small of his back, too low to be unintentional, another on his shoulder; lips so close to his ear that he could feel Hannibal’s breathing tickle his skin. _“Welcome to Florence, Will.”_

He could still feel his skin tingle where their bodies had met and the cold water did nothing to wash the sensation away. Not that they hadn’t touched in the past months during their mutual healing process. They had touched a lot. But not like this; so feathery that he feared it’d burn his skin.

After showering Will heard Hannibal rummaging in the other room, probably getting dressed. In turn Will spent a long time in front of the mirror, looking at himself in the polished glass.

Back in the time when his encephalitis had got its grip on his sanity and hallucinations and nightmares had driven heat into his mind, he’d often found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror like it was a different person. He had sometimes feared, almost expected, that it would run away in the blink of an eye and leave him behind in a world that had was increasingly inhabited by his demons. Then he’d have become mindless and bodiless; a restless wanderer in limbo with an eye on the monsters in the lower layers of hell, and not an inch of sky above him.

Today he looked troubled and exhausted, but nothing in his reflection showed the internal fight that was constantly taking place in his head. It was fascinating, Will found, how everybody was carrying this huge internal world within them and what perfect masks faces were most of the time. Thanks to his empathy, it had never been too hard for him to look behind those masks; but the worlds he discovered there were often so large and all encompassing that once inside it was hard to find his way out again.

With Hannibal it had been different. It had taken Will longer to find a way behind the mask, but amidst the darkness he was surprised to find his own world there. He wondered if it was like this for other people when they fell in love.

Stepping out of the bathroom he almost bumped into Hannibal, who was still wearing his dark slack trousers and nothing else. Instinctively Will took a step back, but it didn’t affect the smile Hannibal was wearing since their arrival.

“Get changed, please!” he called to Will through the closing bathroom door. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

 

♠♣♥♦

 

For their first evening they had decided to walk through the center to get a taste of the city again. They stopped at a bistro and Hannibal bought them fresh Piadinas as a takeaway. It amused Will, as he couldn’t remember ever seeing Hannibal eat takeaway food before and Hannibal’s explanation _“Sometimes one must accommodate to simplicity to enjoy the full range of tradition”_ wasn’t entirely convincing. In this respect, Will was fairly sure that the shabbiness of the bistro itself was deterring Hannibal from insulting the soles of his custom-made shoes with any more contact than was absolutely necessary.

Their route led them through the narrow streets of Florence, passing shop window after shop window of numerous international brands that were a mingled display of fortune as well as ignorance, as countless street vendors trying to peddle their selfie-sticks and sunglasses to the tourists. For a moment Will felt himself drawn back into his old life, his old self who would have passed those shops with scorn regarding the unnecessary courtship wealthy customers received at the entrance while underpaid window cleaners polished the dust from the golden letters of Armani, Louis Vitton or Roberto Cavalli, whose products they would never be able to afford. Now with Hannibal by his side, who would certainly buy him any suit that might catch his eye, the perspective was a bit different. Nevertheless, he still didn’t plan to spend even a single cent in any of those shops.

Hannibal was talking most of the time, recounting stories about his former visits to the city. He seemed to have one about virtually every building they passed, and Will tried to listen attentively while concentrating on not allowing his Piadina to fall apart.

Finally they sat down at the Piazza della Repubblica and waited for dusk to fall over the city. Yet while it grew dark, the night didn’t come and the city remained as lively as ever. Hordes of tourists and locals were milling about, chatting and laughing: the typical Florentine flair that made summer at this place so precious. Some street vendors were selling balloons and small flashlight toys that looked like dandelion seeds: when shot into the air they slowly floated downwards, glowing colourfully against the moonlit sky. A little boy whined at his father to buy him one, but he was offered a ride on the big carousel in the middle of the Piazza instead. A clever move.

“Sometimes I think about Walter,” Will said, sitting at Hannibal’s side with his hands folded in his lap.

“He would have been too old for the carousel, wouldn’t he?”Hannibal asked, his eyes following the rising and falling of the dandelion toys.

“Maybe,” Will smiled, “but he wouldn’t have been too old for that stuff” He pointed at the toy. “He would have loved those.”

“You would have bought him one?”

“Probably not. He’d ruin it within the course of an hour. Or one of the dogs would use it as a chewing toy. “

“Instant destruction of something beautiful. A talent that children and dogs share,” Hannibal replied with a smile.

“That’s true.” Will gave a small laugh.

Then they sat in silence for a while, before Hannibal abruptly asked: “Do you miss your family?”

It was a difficult question. To be honest, Will hadn’t thought a great deal about them since he had plunged into the ocean. Everything had been such a blur and there were more important things to be concerned with: care about his own life as well as Hannibal’s; that alone consumed every bit of attention. But now, seeing this scene of a family - both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time - Will came to ask himself whether he missed it now, even though he had never particularly needed it before. Still, the answer to Hannibal’s question wasn’t ‘no’, so he remained silent and watched the dance of the glowing toy in the air. There was something strangely mesmerizing about it.

“It is very beautiful here,” he said after a while.

Hannibal nodded, his attention drawn to a group of children playing around the stone coulomb next to the carousel. One of the boys had dark curly hair, just like Will’s.

“It used to be even more beautiful centuries ago, before the great restoration of the Piazza at the end of the 19th century. They tore down the Mercato Vecchio and other medieval buildings around the place and instead drew up this enormous triumphal arch. Presumably this was done out of the need for Florence to represent itself as the new capital of Italy, which this city had actually been for some years in that century. Since then opinions differ about whether the restoration ruined or simply reshaped the place.”

Will was only half-listening; his focus had suddenly been drawn to the mother of the child he’d been watching previously, and whose father had just lifted him down from one of the horses on the carousel. She hugged her son from behind and put her hands over his eyes, whispering into his ear. The boy chuckled and turned round while his father pressed a kiss to the woman’s cheek. This was what family should look like, Will thought; and it gave him a slight sting in his stomach when he realised that for him it had never been like this. Never in his entire life.

“Shall we leave?” Hannibal asked, as if he’d read his thoughts.

Will simply nodded and they turned to go back to their hotel.

 

♠♣♥♦

 

In the darkness of their room the air felt heavy again. It didn’t matter where in the world they were, Will thought; lying side by side in their shared singular space of intimacy which always formed around them whenever they were silent, and sometimes when they had conversations. There was no need to speak, there was no need to do anything, but Hannibal had had this particular glint in his eyes whenever their glances had met over the drawn back sheets and Will knew the question. And the answer. They needed to talk.

“Hannibal?” he whispered and hoped that the darkness didn’t swallow his words before they could be heared.

Will felt the mattress dip by the movement of the other man turning towards him. He couldn’t tell how close they were, as the thick curtains kept the darkness safely in the room; but with Hannibal it always felt close, no matter how many miles they were apart.

The sudden warm touch of a hand on his forearm felt like a flame stroking his skin and he pulled back abruptly, regretting it a second later and feeling for Hannibal’s hand.

“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t clear which of them said it first.

“I just didn’t expect it,” Will added. Finding Hannibal’s hand, he begun to gently stroke his thumb over the knuckles, feeling Hannibal’s fingers twitch against his at the sensation.

“I will warn you next time.”

“No, it’s fine.” Will replied, continuing his caressing “This is okay.” He thought he heard Hannibal give a small sigh, but that could also have been his imagination.

“What is it that’s not okay, Will?”

Will turned his head so he could look at Hannibal directly. “So far, nothing.”

“Do you want us to talk about the direction in which our relationship is developing? Or in which you perhaps fear it might develop?”

That was the easy part of conversations with Hannibal. The understanding between them was so profound and intuitive that it often felt like they’d already discussed a topic lengthily when in reality they hadn’t exchanged a single word over it. Although this time, Will felt that a few more words were going to be needed to set things straight.

“I don’t fear it,” he began; but there his words ended and he wasn’t sure if he’d even spoken the truth.

“You have always feared it, haven’t you?” Hannibal turned his palm up and his fingers locked around Will’s, stopping them in their movement.

There was no need to pretend. Hannibal knew it. The question was whether he understood and accepted it.

“I have feared people’s reactions to it,” Will replied some moments later. “Feared that they wouldn’t believe me. And I’ve often been proved right. Someone like me has no place in their universe that’s full of touches and sex. I’ve always been watching from the outside, but I never entered this world.”

Hannibal’s other hand found its way into Will’s curls, slowly running through them without touching his scalp even once.

“That’s the worst, you know” Will continued. “Being told that you’re picky, or ungrateful, or worst of all: People pitying you. Being told that you’re missing out on the best thing in life, and the fear that that you could never, ever understand.”

“But you’ve done it before?” Hannibal’s words were gentle.

“I could probably count the number of times on one hand. Even when I was married to Molly it only happened a few times at the beginning. She soon realised that I wasn’t really interested in that particular activity and so we kept it to simple touches. We still shared a bed, and I liked being close to her, but only ever for comfort, not for lust. I mean, my body is still reacting properly, but there’s no yearning; no intimacy in it for me.”

Part of him couldn’t believe that he was actually having this conversation with Hannibal. He was relieved they were in darkness; he didn’t think he could endure Hannibal’s doubtlessly curious eyes on him right now.

“Have you tried it with men before?”

“No. But there was never any interest. Not before...” he interlaced his fingers with Hannibal’s. “...before you.”

Will was sure Hannibal smiled into the darkness. “But I don’t think it would be different either.” he added.

“Everything about our relationship is different, Will,” Hannibal said and Will drew in his breath sharply as he heard him moving closer.

“I can still read your reaction to any of my touches as some kind of attraction, can’t I?”

“You can,” Will whispered; and felt his defence being taken away. There was attraction, undoubtedly. There was even yearning. He had never been this close to another person before, emotionally. Their connection was precious to him. He didn’t dare to touch it. He feared it might break again, like their teacup.

“Would you describe it to me? What you feel?” _How does that make you feel, Will?_

“I just...”He trailed off. Hannibal’s steady pace of stroking through his hair calmed him, made it easier for his tongue to find the words again.

“I don’t feel like I’m getting closer to a person by physical contact,” Will finally said. “For me it’s a weird concept. It’s like breaking a mirror to get to a thing you see behind yourself in the reflection. You want to touch it, so you break the glass; but the moment it shatters the image is lost. The only way to get closer is to turn around.”

“What am I to you then?” Hannibal asked “The mirror or the reflection?”

“They’re conjoined. Whenever you see a mirror you also see a reflection. I see us both in it. You’re standing behind me. You are what I want to get closer to. But I won’t break the glass. I don’t want to touch you in that way.”

Hannibal’s hand in his hair stopped moving, but he didn’t take it away.

“Physical contact is not the closest way you can be intimate with someone,” Hannibal said in his soothing voice that enfolded Will into the words as if they were a blanket. “I’m sure you, of all people, understand that. And it has never been the preferred way I wanted to be close to you. I know you deep beneath your skin; as you know me deep beneath mine. What we share is far beyond the simple attraction of two human bodies to each other.”

He unlocked their conjoined hands and trailed a line with the tip of his finger up Will’s forearm, stopping by the elbow and wandering back downwards.

“I could cut you open and tear you apart; crawl deep into your body to the very core of you. I could build a ship out of your bones, make sails out of your skin and sail to sea; and I would still not be as close to you as I am right now, simply lying side by side.”

Will felt a shiver running down his spine. It wasn’t fear. It was the excitement of being understood.

“Can we be close like that for tonight?” he asked, sliding an inch closer to Hannibal, almost close enough for their torsos to touch.

“At any time, Will.”

Slowly and carefully, Will lifted his head from the pillow and laid it down on Hannibal’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of the other’s body through the thin layer of his pyjama shirt. Hannibal’s hand came to rest on his back, higher this time than at the airport. Hannibal held him close without any pressure. It was incredibly calming. Their fingers interlocked once more and after a few further minutes of silent breathing in the dark, Will felt sleep sneaking into his limbs and he drifted away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit later than planned due to stuff that happens in real-life: here is Chapter 2 of my little asexual Will story :)  
> I want to thank all the lovely people who gave me so much positive and wonderful feedback on the first chapter! I was really amazed that this story was so well appreciated, even though it's officially smut-free. :D  
> Lots of love to all of you! And a big thank you once again to [MissDisoriental](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDisoriental), who truly did wonders on beta-ing this fic! <3
> 
> I put some links into the story, for those of you who are interested in seeing what our Murder Husbands see. ;)

The next morning Will was woken by the tickle of a fly scurrying across his cheek and the warm beams of summer sunlight seeping into the room. A small draught of fresh air made him realise that Hannibal had left the window ajar for the whole night; which explained the numerous midge bites on his arms and legs that promptly began to itch as soon as he discovered them. For a moment Will considered going to the bathroom to get some ointment, but then he felt the slight pressure of Hannibal’s hand on his back that unconsciously made him pull closer to the other man and he smiled; content to stay in bed for as long as possible.

The warmth on his skin was accompanied by another feeling that spread out within his belly and filled him to the brim with blissful saturation. It was like the calmness one feels after the tears of a long withheld fit of crying have run dry and the sun peaks again. But he hadn’t been crying; at least as far as he could remember. Only now, with the weight of his long kept secret finally removed from his shoulders, could he appreciate how heavy a burden he’d been carrying for so many years; and now this new freedom – for a moment it felt like flying.

Will felt Hannibal stir next to him and turned his head to look at the other man, waiting for him to open his eyes. He was curious about what expression he was going to find in them. The smile that played around Hannibal’s lips, before his eyelids fluttered open, blew away Will’s last remaining doubts that Hannibal could have misunderstood him the previous night.

When Will finally worked up the motivation to leave the bed, the warmth seeping through the drawn curtains was a promise of a hot summer day.

 

♠♣♥♦

 

Despite the early hour the city was already overcrowded. Groups of tourists from all over the world formed a pilgrimage to the cultural attractions in the hope of shortening their waiting time in the entrance queues, which inevitably formed wherever many people simultaneously came up with the idea of being the first in line. Workmen sporadically hastened through the crowds on their way to work. They looked like spoilsports amidst all the casually dressed people with cameras and ice-cream cones.

Hannibal and Will had originally planned to visit the Uffizi Gallery that day, but it was a Saturday which meant that the gallery would certainly be overflowing with tourists. They didn’t want to demean their second shared visit to the Primavera by being forced to view the painting from afar through various camera displays that belonged to people “ _to whose eyes such a view is wasted_ ”, as Hannibal had expressed it. Instead they opted to postpone their visit to one of the following days. After all, there was no hurry.

Will had suggested visiting the famous _Il Duomo_ , the cathedral Santa Maria del Fiore. Hannibal, however, was against it.

“It’s not even remotely as beautiful from the inside as it is from the outside, I promise, and we will spend at least an hour queuing for the sight of pale white stonewalls,” Hannibal had assured him “I advise you to appreciate the view from the outside. The façade is really the most stunning part of the cathedral.”

So they spent their morning in the church Santa Maria Novella, which was utterly beautiful from the inside as well as out. The copiousness of detail and colour in each of the frescos that covered the walls of the whole chancel was overwhelming and Will thought he could spend days or even weeks in there and still not be able to fully view the imagery and meaning of each painting.

After taking pictures of every corner of the church in order to study them thoroughly later, Will found Hannibal in the Cappella Strozzi di Mantova standing in front of a [huge depiction of Dante’s Inferno](https://blogcamminarenellastoria.files.wordpress.com/2015/05/9-linferno-dantesco.jpg), that stretched from the wall to the roof. It was a disturbing image in sandy and brown colours that contained gruesomely detailed depictions of torture and pain: culminating with the figure of the devil devouring humans alive; their ragged bodies hanging between his teeth and claws. Hannibal’s eyes were focused on the picture; he didn’t look up when Will took his side.

“I’ve never seen something like this in a church before,” Will said, utterly captured by the strange beauty of the portrayed cruelty.

“Depictions of hell and damnation weren’t uncommon in earlier days,” Hannibal explained, not taking his eyes away from the fresco. “No better way to make people invest all their goods and chattels in the church than a detailed description of the place where they will end up if they refuse to do so. A wealthy bishop has many frightened sheep.”

“A religion can’t thrive on fear alone,” Will replied.

 “No, it cannot. That’s why there is Paradiso too.”

Will frowned. “Where?”

Hannibal smiled, finally looking at him. “[One has to turn around.](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/72/Nardo_di_cione,_paradiso,_cappella_strozzi_in_santa_maria_novella,_florence,_1360_circa.jpg)"

 

♠♣♥♦

 

Afterwards they had lunch at a trattoria at the Piazza della Signorina and for the first time in his life Will saw Hannibal eat a pizza. It was such an absurd view that it made Will burst into laughter. Hannibal’s lips twitched in slight amusement.

“Yes, this is indeed a pizza, Will,” he said while cutting it into pieces. “And not the first one I’ve ever eaten, I assure you.”

Nevertheless Will couldn’t take his eyes off him; something about the way Hannibal tried to eat his food gracefully was truly adorable.

Will himself had ordered lasagne, but the portion was far too small to fill him up; so he stole two slices of pizza from Hannibal’s plate, which earned him an indignant glance.

“Save your appetite for dinner, Will.”

Will frowned. “Why?”

“I’ve made a reservation for us,” Hannibal replied. “We have something to celebrate.”

Will couldn’t think of anything in particular that called for celebration, but he put one of the pizza slices back onto Hannibal’s plate nevertheless.

 

♠♣♥♦

 

For the afternoon they’d briefly decided to rest their legs, as the cobblestoned streets of the historic center had soon begun to take a toll on their feet. There were no shoes comfortable enough to brave long walks through the city; certainly not those Hannibal had bought for their vacation. Will quietly regretted having agreed to leather shoes rather than sneakers. The elegant look wasn’t worth the pain.

Fortunately there was a bus route available for their next destination: Piazzale Michelangelo; a viewpoint located uphill in the southern outskirts of the city from which afforded [a stunning view over Florence](https://lexxinthecity.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/img_1704.jpg). Hannibal’s eyes brightened the moment they turned round and saw the view unfold. Will suddenly understood why Hannibal had fallen in love with this city so many years ago; and now all over again. The warm sunlight softened the lines and edges of the buildings and gave the landscape the look of an oil painting. From up here, it became clear how huge the cathedral actually was compared to the rest of the city. Its cupola towered above the roofs of the buildings around it like an enthroned king, making the rest of the city look like a miniature version of itself. The Arno River meandered amidst them, sparkling golden in the sunlight.

The smile on Hannibal’s face was deep and genuine.

“I have dreamed of being here with you one day,” he confessed. The gentleness in his tone made Will blush and he swallowed, suddenly remembering the reason why they hadn’t managed to make it to this point before.

As if he’d read Will’s thoughts, Hannibal whispered: “It’s alright. All that matters is that we’re here now.”

They sat down on a bench and let their eyes linger over the view. Will was already able to identify some of the buildings he saw, while Hannibal told him which of them he planned for them to visit during the remainder of their vacation. After a while Will closed his eyes and let the soft breeze stroke his skin; his thoughts drifted off to a place that was solely occupied by Hannibal’s words.

A sudden sound of clapping hands and car horns made his eyes snap open again. On the street beneath the Piazza a large white limousine had driven up to the entrance of a nearby hotel. The car was decorated with floral wreaths and the lettering _“OGGI SPOSI”_ was visible on the bonnet: _Just Married._

Amidst applause from the crowd, the bride and her husband got out of the car and made their way to the hotel entrance, followed by the rest of the wedding party. The bride’s cheeks were flushed and it was obvious that she could barely contain her tears of joy.

With a sting in his chest Will was drawn back to the memories of his own wedding, more than three years ago. He didn’t remember much; he’d been drinking heavily the evening before and had faked a smile most of the following day. He hoped Molly hadn’t noticed; she had seemed so happy, and none of it was her fault after all. Will had dreamt of Hannibal the night before his wedding. He’d awoken in the middle of the night with the most painful of longings in his chest and barely made his way to the bathroom. He’d felt sick, but he couldn’t vomit. He’d felt sad, but he couldn’t cry. He’d been trembling, but Molly wasn’t there to comfort him. So he’d sat down on the cold bathroom floor and drew clocks till the morning came.

Hannibal’s eyes rested on him now, clearly aware of the painful memory that the sight of the joyful couple had evoked for Will.

“They will not always be that happy,” he said with a slight smirk.

Will gave a dry laugh. “Is that supposed to cheer me up?”

“It is simply a fact,” Hannibal stated, turning his gaze back to the city. “A wedding day is always a façade of happiness. It isn’t sustainable, and that’s what most people fail to see.”

“How would you know?” Will asked. “You’ve never been married.”

“No, indeed, I haven’t,” Hannibal agreed.

A question hovered on Will’s tongue, but it took a few further moments until he’d worked up the courage to vocalise it: “Would you consider it? One day perhaps?”

Hannibal didn’t look at him, but Will could tell he was smiling.

“It is not out of the question.”

Will didn’t quite know what to do with that - confession? comment? insinuation? – so he decided to lock away his thoughts before he could come to a conclusion.

 

♠♣♥♦

 

The restaurant where Hannibal had made a reservation for dinner was situated in the outskirts of the city centre on the southern side of the Arno River. Glancing in through the windows, the sight of a huge gray fish lying on top of a heap of ice cubes gave Will a shiver. Being a fisherman he was used to the look of lifeless fish eyes but still it gave him the creeps every time; making him avert his gaze when he gutted them afterwards. _Eyes are distracting._

A waiter greeted them at the entrance. Dressed in a dark gray suit and shining leather shoes he ran a scrutinising glance over them both. Will wasn’t able to tell if this was customary behaviour, or if their appearance somehow didn’t meet the venue’s standards.

“Buona sera, Signore. Abbiamo prenotato un tavolo per due persone,” Hannibal explained. “Il nome è Graham.”

They had agreed on using Will’s real name now and then as it was far too common to draw any attention – particularly as they could easily be identified as foreign tourists in Florence.

The waiter opened a small notebook he’d been holding and ran a finger over the paper. Suddenly his face lightened up and Will silently hoped this wasn’t a sign that the waiter knew Hannibal, but he just smiled and allowed the man to lead him inside.

When Will entered the restaurant, he instantly understood the fastidious attitude towards potential patrons. Whoever owned the place obviously couldn’t decide whether they wanted a restaurant or an antique shop. There were not more than four or five tables which were suitable to dine at, and even those were overly decorated with centerpieces of wood and flowers and embroidered cotton napkins. The tables were surrounded by artistically carved chairs made of dark wood, the seating of which was upholstered with ornamented cushions. Each one of the tables was positioned in a separate corner of the room; angled in a manner to guarantee absolute privacy. The remainder of the furniture comprised side tables, glass cabinets filled with abstract artworks of porcelain; and a huge black grandfather clock, whose pendulum hung still, even though the clock seemed to work correctly. All in all, one would expect the owners of such a place to select their customers with care.

Will raised an eyebrow at Hannibal when they were led to their table near the rear window, the dreadful dead fish fortunately out of sight. Hannibal just smiled in amusement. This was his world and it made him proud to show it to Will.

The waiter described the daily menu – the restaurant seemed to be too elite for a menu card – but Will didn’t even know the main ingredients of most of the named dishes, so he let Hannibal choose and order on his behalf. ( _“Nothing containing fish, please!”)_

“This is by far the weirdest place where I’ve ever had dinner,” Will remarked when they were alone again.

“The interior is not dissimilar to my own dining room,” Hannibal replied with a smirk. “And the food there was decidedly weirder.”

Will could only agree to that. “So, are you going to tell me what that special occasion is that you wanted to celebrate?” he asked after a while.

Hannibal’s smile widened and he reached for the bottle of champagne that had already been awaiting them in an ice bucket on the table when they’d arrived.

“Our anniversary,” he replied. The last syllables of his words were swallowed by the sound of the popping cork. “Exactly one year ago we brought down the dragon together. And then ourselves.”

Will smiled weakly at the bittersweet memory of their hard plunge into the Atlantic. It was almost as if he could taste the seawater on his lips again. “That’s a strange reason to celebrate.”

Hannibal began pouring the champagne into their glasses. “Why so?” he asked without looking up.

“Well, other people celebrate the anniversary of a birthday or a wedding. We celebrate the memory of a murder.”

“A toast to that!” Hannibal said cheerfully, raising his glass “And to all the other beautiful things!”

The clink sound of their glasses drew the attention of a couple at a nearby table and Will turned his face away hastily, afraid of being recognized.

“Don’t worry,” Hannibal whispered, apparently unconcerned. “For the people here we are just faces in the crowd. Another reason why I chose this place is because it’s famous for its discretion.”

He reached for Will’s hand and gently took it in his. Will briefly considered pulling away, but the touch was actually comforting.

“Do you want to talk again about last night?”

The question surprised Will. “Why? Is there anything else to say?”

“I don’t know,” Hannibal replied. “Is there?”

They were just stacking up questions again and that annoyed Will. “You said that it wouldn’t matter to you,” he said pointedly.

“And it doesn’t. Actually I must confess that I had suspected it.”

Will was bewildered. “How could you know that?”

Hannibal sighed, but his expression was one of fondness. “I’m a psychiatrist, Will. You are hardly the first asexual person I’ve met in my life.”

The word itself made Will flinch, even though he knew the term; he had just never heard it spoken out loud before.

“But you touched me at the airport, after we got off the plane,” he said, trying to decipher the other’s intentions. “And it wasn’t exactly subtle.”

Hannibal smiled. “That was more of a test, I’d say. I immediately realized you felt uncomfortable.”

A small furrow of anger formed on Will’s forehead. “You really need to stop playing with me like that!” he hissed. “This game is over!”

“Please forgive me, Will. I promise it was the last time.” Hannibal didn’t sound completely serious about it.

At that moment, their conversation was interrupted by the waiter returning with two antipasti plates and a small basket with white bread, which Will disliked after the first bite. It was absolutely salt-free. Weird.

“If I wasn’t…like that,” Will tried to pick up the discussion some minutes later. “Would you want to be with me? In every way?”

He didn’t look at Hannibal, because he could feel himself blushing.

“If your question refers to whether I’d want to have sex with you…” (Will felt himself cringe at the word; not because of what it meant, but because it was Hannibal who said it) “… then the answer is: I would not be opposed.”

“So – yes?” Will persevered.

“Does that bother you?”

Will thought about it for a moment, but found that it didn’t make him feel uncomfortable now that Hannibal knew what he could expect from him in return - and likewise what he couldn’t.

“No,” he eventually replied. “I kind of suspected it.”

Hannibal acted out an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Oh? What gave me away?”

This made Will laugh. “Well, thanks for taking this seriously,” he said sarcastically.

“Of course, Will!” Hannibal replied, adopting a similar tone. “Some people would claim that I’m a very good listener.”

“Yeah, you should become a therapist or something like that.”

“Oh, I used to be one.” Hannibal said, obviously having fun with their game.

“Really?” Will asked, faking a frown. “What happened?”

“A patient of mine; a handsome young man actually. He challenged me in a way that was far beyond my competence.”

Will smiled broadly. “That’s a strange way of saying it.”

Hannibal looked slightly confused. “Saying what?”

“That you fell in love.”

Hannibal lowered his gaze immediately to his plate; and Will wasn’t entirely sure, but there were strong indications that Hannibal was blushing.

Will had never thought of this when he’d thought of love. In his imagination love had meant flowers and happy summers, not blood and pain. And sex. He’d always connected romantic love with sexual pleasure. And sex; that was something other people had. Given that this was a language he couldn’t understand, how could he expect to speak the other - the romantic one? That was probably the reason why he’d never understood Hannibal’s intentions towards him as love. It had been so cruel; so possessive. No flowers, no happy summers. No sex. How could he ever have discerned the agonizing feeling after Hannibal had turned himself in as lovesickness? How could he ever have understood his pain to be pining?

 

♠♣♥♦

 

The light of the streetlamps on the Ponte S.Trinità sparkled silvery on the ripply surface of the Arno River when they were on their way back to the hotel. Will felt like he could never eat anything again in his whole life and regretted having listened to Hannibal’s recommendation of a full menu. Needless to say it had been absolutely delicious, but also a huge challenge for his digestive system.

On the middle of the bridge, Hannibal suddenly stopped and turned round to look at the famous [Ponte Vecchio](http://www.tuscanypeople.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/Firenze-Ponte-Vecchio-di-notte.jpg), its illuminated shape reflected on the water surface. His glance was resting on the view and he looked like he was dreaming.

“The famed Vasari corridor,” he said, in an almost reverent manner. “It connects Palazzo Vecchio with Palazzo Pitti on the other side of the river via a long passageway leading right through the Uffizi Gallery and this beautiful bridge.”

“For what purpose?” Will asked.

“It once enabled the Duke of Florence to move between his residency and the government palace without having to meet the eye of the public. It was safer that way; and more comfortable.” Hannibal turned to Will and looked at him fondly. “I’m really looking forward to visiting the Uffizi gallery again with you.”

“Do you remember what you said to me when I found you there the last time?” Will himself would certainly never be able to forget the glint in Hannibal’s eyes when he’d sat down beside him; the knife already in his pocket, its sharp tip pricking lightly into his belly through the layer of his jacket.

“That I’d always remember this moment, even if I saw you every day for the rest of my life?” Hannibal’s eyes were soft; it was a fond memory for him.

Will couldn’t bring himself to return the look: “And do you?”

“I do. Every day that I see you.”

And in this very moment, Will realized that he wasn’t missing out on anything. He could understand it now. He could love and was loved in return. After all, Hannibal didn’t speak the language well either; but they could learn it together. Instead of words, he reached for the other’s hand.

Hannibal took it after an initial look of surprise and tore his eyes away from the sight of the bridge.

“Did you know,” he began as they walked on towards the other side of the river, “that Florence originally meant ‘city of the flowers’?”

Will grinned. “Well, I think I could have guessed that.”

 

♠♣♥♦

 

When they’d almost reached the Piazza Santa Maria Novella, they suddenly heard the sound of singing from behind them. Buskers weren’t anything extraordinary; in the evenings they could be heard at every corner in the city, but this one didn’t seem to get quieter even though they were walking away from the music. On the contrary, the singing actually became louder.

“Is he following us?” Will asked in a whisper; not turning around to look.

Hannibal chuckled quietly. “We could stop and let him pass?”

Will shook his head. “No, no need for that.” Surely, the busker would turn away soon.

But he didn’t. Instead he followed them all the way to the Piazza while singing Italian country songs, his voice accompanied by the sound of a slightly untuned guitar. The rhythm was simple yet catchy and the song sounded happy, even though Will’s poor knowledge of the Italian prevented him from understanding its meaning.

Nevertheless, after another minute Will began to feel seriously uncomfortable and gently tugged Hannibal into the next alleyway in order to let the singer pass by. Now he could finally take a look at him: he was probably about Will’s age, wearing a black shirt, sunglasses and a cowboy hat that looked like it had already been used for a number of actual rodeos, which its owner had all lost. Completely unconcerned by their sudden retreat, the man strolled on.

His odd looks and behaviour had Will so baffled that for a moment he didn’t realize the lyrics had abruptly switched into English halfway through the song.

He and Hannibal threw a glance after the cowboy – Will in bewilderment, Hannibal in amusement – as the voice slowly faded away. However, the lyrics danced around in Will’s head like they were the explanation; the final simple answer:

 

_So come on home, you are all I know_  
_You are in my soul, I'll never let go_  
 _Come on home, you are all I know_  
 _You are in my soul, I'll never let go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all my lovelies! Comments and kudos are appreciated, of course! See you soon for the HannibalBigBang reveal! :) 
> 
> Fun fact: The scene with the cowboy busker was inspired by something that happened to myself during my recent trip to Florence. A friend and I were on our way to the city center when suddenly this man started following us, singing and playing the guitar without any concerns of the weird looks it earned him. He was singing exactly that song (which is called [Come on home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=75QM_aoz00c) by Indigenous, btw) and when it was getting really awkward after a while, my friend and I stopped to let him pass. It was just such a weird experience that I had to put it into the story! :D
> 
> Come visit me on [Tumblr](http://cervolina.tumblr.com/)! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! (and also a motivation boost, so please leave me some ;)
> 
> And hey, I'm also on [Tumblr](http://cervolina.tumblr.com/), so come find me there if you like. ;)


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